


Shattered Wings

by TourmalineQueen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's angelwing mug(s), Bullying, Crowley POV, Gen, Heavenly bullies, Missing Scene, Pre-Canon, Protective Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23013448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: Based on that post on Tumblr that shows Aziraphale's supply of many angelwing mugs, this is my take on who gave him so many and why. And also Sandalphon is a dickhead.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	Shattered Wings

Crowley awoke suddenly. He was ~~at home~~ in the godawful horsehair Edwardian bed in the tiny, poky little flat above Aziraphale’s bookshop. He vaguely recalled arriving at the bookshop late in the evening some indeterminate time ago, (he hadn’t gathered any dust but that wasn’t a good way to judge for how long he had slept, as Aziraphale did do a bit of dusting in the non-bookshop-y parts of the building now and then) and Aziraphale had refused to allow him to drive back to Mayfair.

Now oriented, Crowley still wasn’t sure what had woken him up. An urgent, panicky feeling suffused the whole building. _Aziraphale is in trouble_ , Crowley realised. Despite not liking so doing, Crowley transformed into a snake, a small, black snake that could hide in the shadows (and turn into a massive fucking anaconda at will if the angel needed protection). He slithered off the (godawful, Edwardian, horsehair, frankly insulting to the noun) bed and down towards the shop, keeping silent and hidden in the shadows, stopping often and moving cautiously until the threat was determined…

_Oh, no. Oh, fuck._

Sandalphon.

Gabriel’s enforcer. A smite-happy bastard of an angel who delighted in decimating the populations that were particularly dear to Aziraphale. Crowley was fairly certain he was of a similar level in the heavenly hierarchy to Ligur in hell's hierarchy (lower-archy?), and thus a bigger threat than Crowley could take on and hope to succeed. Crowley silently sneaked closer to listen to the two angels. If he had to he'd discorporate trying to protect Aziraphale, but sometimes eavesdropping reaped more rewards than a frontal assault.

“…Wants to see you, Principality,” Sandalphon was saying. He paused, sniffed loudly and rudely, and added, “wot’s that smell, Aziraphale? It smells… Evil.”

Aziraphale, holding his white angelwing mug full of cocoa, didn’t even hesitate in his reply.

“Old bookshops develop such smells over time. Humans expect it. I’ve become so used to it I don’t even notice it anymore. Where did Gabriel want to see me? Is he at his tailors’?”

Sandalphon gave Aziraphale an ugly look. Crowley privately thought it wasn’t possible for the archangel to look any uglier, but it was definitely a purposeful choice of ugly expression.

“ _What_ is _ **that**_?” Sandalphon pointed at Aziraphale’s mug.

“Hm? Oh, this? It’s a mug of hot cocoa. It’s a human invention, very sweet and comforting. Would you like to taste it?”

Aziraphale offered the mug to the Archangel, a kind, hopeful smile on his face. A look Crowley knew well from every single time Aziraphale tried to get him to taste some new food the humans invented, starting with oysters in Petronius’ place. Crowley knew this was going to end badly for his angel. Sandalphon took the proffered beverage and sniffed it suspiciously. He made (yet another) ugly face and dropped the mug, no, he threw it to the ground, ensuring the ceramic shattered. Crowley had to stop himself from hissing angrily at the hurt look that briefly crossed Aziraphale’ s features.

“If it’s not Divine Ambrosia, it’s not worth trying. I shouldn’t be sullying my heavenly temple with it. And neither should you, Principality. It is _gross matter_. Now, off you pop, Upstairs. Gabriel awaits,” Sandalphon sneered.

“U-upstairs? Is he in the flat?” Aziraphale asked, not-quite sounding not-quite alarmed.

“No, Aziraphale, the Archangel Gabriel would not dignify this… Bookshop with his presence. You need to attend him. In heaven,” Sandalphon replied, a sarcastic sort of tone seeping into his voice. “Just make sure you don’t interrupt The _Sound of Music_ , he said he’d be watching it for the next three days.”

“Of course not, Sandalphon. Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m sure you’re a very busy angel with a great many blessings to perform, and I must tidy up this mess before someone gets hurt on the shards. Off you pop, Sandalphon! Pip-pip, toodle-oo!”

Aziraphale waved faux-cheerily until Sandalphon was long gone, out the door and down the street. Crowley slithered to the floor and transformed back to his usual man-shaped self even as Aziraphale visibly deflated and locked the door.

“Angel?” Crowley asked quietly.

“It’s fine, Crowley. You’d better pop out the back way in case he comes back without warning. He tends to do that. I need to tidy this mess. I do hope your sleep has restored you.”

“Yeah, angel,” Crowley murmured, giving a small wave, and moved back towards the eastern end of the shop, where the back exit was located.

He took out his phone, and started tapping on his shopping app as he made his way to his Bentley. The next day Aziraphale was very surprised to take delivery of a brown cardboard box that had a smiling logo, that contained several white, ceramic, angelwing mugs.


End file.
